


Any Other Drabble -- Undertale Drift

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [54]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:00:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Even more drabbles from the 'by any other name' universe.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

The text consisted of one word.

_chocolate?_

Nothing more, nothing less, but pleading was heavily implied.

The moment he walked in the door, Edge dropped the grocery bags into Stretch’s lap. He grunted in surprise and sat up, looking at him in confusion, “what’s all this?”

“’Chocolate’ was unhelpfully vague,” Edge told him. “I hope this is what you wanted.”

Frowning, he opened the first bag. Out tumbled four cellophane wrapped heart-shaped boxes, decorated liberally with crushed red velvet and fake flowers.

“valentine’s candy?” Stretch said doubtfully.

“It was on clearance.”

Any effort was suitably rewarded simply by watching Stretch’s expression turn more and more incredulous. The next bag yielded a carton of chocolate eruption ice cream, a box of cocoa pebbles, a half-gallon of chocolate milk, a small tube of chocolate brown paint, and a jar of chocolate body butter with a cheery label proclaiming it healed dry skin, surely to be ever-so-helpful for a person who possessed none.

“for fuck’s sake,” Stretch sighed and even that disintegrated into laughter. “i don’t know if it’s your smartassery or your dedication to the joke that i appreciate more. thanks, babe.”

“I hope at least one of those met your requirements,” Edge said archly.

“yeah, yeah, next time i’ll be more specific,” Stretch waved him off, then called after him, “no one ever believes me when i say you’re funny!”

“That’s because you’re easily amused,” Edge told him. He hid his own smirk, letting the sound of laughter chase him out of the room.

-fin


	2. Keeping It Reel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gift giving is an art and Edge has gotten better at it, in more ways than one.

* * *

Edge wasn’t quite asleep. Rather, he was hovering right on the border of wakefulness, where he could vaguely distinguish the things around him if not exactly what they were. 

What he could tell was that he was warm and comfortable, and there was a light weight against him and more on his lap. A moment of sleepy contemplation told him that the most logical conclusion was that he was sitting on their sofa and it was likely Stretch in his lap.

With some effort, Edge opened his sockets. The television screen was on the Netflix main menu, a blurb playing repeatedly, and the time display told him it was in the wee morning hours. 

A glance downward confirmed that Stretch was asleep in his lap. He was sprawled on his front, the toes of his socks barely peeking out from beneath his blanket and somehow, he’d managed to worm his arms around Edge. The one behind him was putting uncomfortable pressure on his spine, possibly what had woken him, but Edge wasn’t inclined to move. Not yet. 

Stretch’s skull was turned away from the television and that put his face a bare inch from the zipper on Edge’s pants. His position might have been lewd if it weren’t for his closed sockets, the way his expression was soft and relaxed in sleep. It made for a sweet temptation to touch that Edge resisted for the moment, not wishing to wake him. 

He was bundled up warmly in a blanket, that much was normal, but the one he was using was not the one usually neatly folded across the back of their sofa and with a start, Edge recognized it.

It had been gift from Edge, although not a recent one. From before they’d even been dating.

Edge lightly stroked a hand over the faded pattern with thoughtful care, remembering.

The very first Gyftmas they’d been above ground was less than what Edge would call a success. He and Red were unaccustomed to exchanging gifts and to suddenly receive them from the others had been an unpleasant mixture of surprise and humiliation. None of the others had faulted them, not even Stretch, but instead of soothing his shame that had only magnified it. 

The next Gyftmas he’d made sure to have gifts for the others, taking great care to get them each something they’d appreciate. Edge refused to be undermined in any activity, certainly not the art of gift giving, and he’d spent the month finding presents for all the others. Not a difficult challenge, not for him. 

Until he got to Stretch.

At the time, he hadn’t particularly wanted to give him a gift at all, but he couldn’t excuse _not_ giving one. It would hardly go unremarked when everyone else had a package and the last thing Blue needed was an extra gift in the form of having to mediate between Edge and his brother in yet another petty squabble. 

But even grudgingly intending to give him a present hadn’t made it easier to find one. 

It had been perilously close to Gyftmas and his desperation was growing. Then he’d found it. _The_ gift.

At the bottom of a clearance bin where it had likely lived for some time and may well still be there if Edge hadn’t discovered it. An oversized throw blanket and the packaging showed the picture on it was of a gaudy nature scene that involved a large, hideous fish leaping from a stream. In a moment of designing insanity, a gaudy salmon pink had been chosen as the edging and the fish itself looked more as if it someone had described what a fish might look like to an artist who had never seen one. Surely if any such creature had been found in nature, it would have been a kindness to put it out of its misery. 

It was ugly beyond words and Edge had purchased it immediately, ignoring the dubious expression that the clerk had worn, and even now he couldn’t say whether her look was for him specifically or his atrocious purchase. 

He’d intending it as a petty little joke, hideously ugly coupled with a subtle dig at how often Stretch spent napping his days away, and as a gift, Stretch’s only options would have been to refuse it entirely or to accept it with as much grace as he could muster. Thus, Edge would not be the one to ruin Blue’s holiday. 

In theory, it had been perfect.

Instead, the joke had been on him because Stretch had chosen an unknown, third option. He’d loudly declared that he loved it and promptly wrapped the blanket around his shoulders as a sort of cape. He’d worn the wretched thing most of the day, along with a knowing smirk, and in the months after when Edge had visited the Swap brothers’ home, it would be slung over the back of a chair or on the sofa, highly visible and a stark reminder of Edge’s failure. 

He supposed there were worse things than being unable to give a terrible gift. 

It was only after they’d started dating that Edge discovered that Stretch really did use it for naps, and often slept with it at night. He’d confessed with a wary shyness that had been somehow charming and appalling, an unpleasant reminder of how things had once been between them alongside a certain shameful pleasure that Stretch really did like his gift. The very first one Edge had ever given him, and he’d given plenty of others now over the years, chosen with great care, but this would always be the first. 

It was rather tatty now, the previously vibrant pattern dulled from washing and the once fluffy texture was matted, much of the softness worn away. Edge absently traced the fish’s monstrous head and didn’t notice when Stretch woke up until he saw the soft gleam of his eye lights. 

“hey, baby love,” Stretch slurred out, and Edge could only shake his head at that particular pet name.

Better to ignore it in the hopes it didn’t catch on and instead Edge gave the corner of the blanket a light tug, “I can’t believe you still have this ugly thing.”

It definitely worked as a distraction. Stretch sat up full of righteous indignation, mummifying himself in his blanket as if Edge had suggested shredding it before tossing it directly into the fire. 

“are you kidding?” Stretch sputtered out, “i love this blanket. it’s warm. it’s big enough that it actually covers me without my feet poking out. and it has a fucking _fish_ on it, seriously, it’s the best thing ever!”

“I’ll take you at your word,” Edge told him. He caught hold of Stretch again, reeling him back in, and he went grudgingly, suspicious of any further insult on his precious blanket. 

Edge was less interested in the blanket now as he was what was inside it and Stretch’s caution faded into soft laughter, squirming as Edge tried to work his hands beneath it. Attempting to tug it loose while Stretch struggled to keep it wrapped around him was a challenge, but Edge was determined to win. 

The blanket may have once been a gift, but Stretch was always Edge’s favorite present to unwrap. 

-finis-


	3. A Little Time to Unwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch’s gifts always came from the soul. Which was good because they could be rough on the eyes.

* * *

“i have something for you.”

Edge looked up from his newspaper, setting aside his coffee cup. In the kitchen doorway, Stretch was bouncing on his toes wearing an expression of gleeful eagerness.

Edge only raised a brow bone at him. “Do you?”

“yes, yes, you asshole, i do! come on, come on!” Stretch grabbed his hand and pulled impatiently. Edge allowed him to tug uselessly for a moment before giving in and standing, following him out to the living room.

Stretch let him go before they made it past the sofa, turning to face him and honestly, Edge could never get enough of the sight of him when he was excited, the way he gestured wildly, all but glowing with it. “you know how i’ve been knitting lately?”

“Something like it, yes,” Edge agreed. “It’s more vulgar than I ever expected yarn craft to be.”

Lately, whenever he’d been watching television Stretch had also been knitting. Sort of. Small wonder he didn’t try whenever he was outside with the chickens, some of the curses Stretch muttered beneath his breath while he struggled with the yarn could singe feathers.

“asshole,” Stretch said, singsong, but he grinned. “i finally finished something and i wanted you to have it!” He thrust a package into Edge’s hands that looked like it was wrapped in an old takeout menu. 

Carefully, Edge undid the tape, ignoring the impatient sounds Stretch was making as he unfolded the paper rather than tearing through it.

“what do you think?” Stretch asked eagerly.

“I…" Edge began, and allowed his first reaction to trail away into silence. It was a pair of socks, if one was generous with the word, and by the stars, they were _terrible_. 

The knitting was knobbly and uneven. One of them seemed almost long enough to draw up to the knee and the other might possibly reach over his ankle bone if he pulled hard enough. In various places he could actually see the hole of a dropped stitch and Edge had nothing but sympathy for any creature who could wear a heel shaped that way. The color at least was acceptable, soft grey wool, but Stretch could hardly take credit for that. 

Edge couldn’t knit but he did do a little sewing, often darning socks, and he could say unequivocally that these were the most tortured pair he had ever seen.

“well??”

He looked up from the socks at Stretch. His pale eye lights were bright with happiness, his grin gleeful, and he was almost hopping from foot to foot, waiting for Edge’s judgement.

"I love them," he said simply.

That bright glee shifted to laughter and he watched in confusion as Stretch sank down on the sofa, sprawling back on the cushions as he snickered madly.

"smooth, babe," Stretch grinned up at him. "i know, they're awful. i just wanted to see how you'd wiggle around actually saying it."

"But I do love them," Edge insisted stubbornly. He allowed himself a small smirk, leaning down to brush a kiss against Stretch’s skull. “And you’re a shit, you know.”

"i know,” Stretch tipped his head upward in offering, letting Edge steal a proper kiss. “okay, how about this instead?”

He dug out another package from beneath the sofa. This one was wrapped in a grocery advertisement and Edge gave in, tearing through the page that boasted a sale on carrots and avocados. Inside was more soft grey wool but this time it unfolded into a long scarf. It was still obviously done by a beginner, but he could see the progression in its length, the unwieldy knitting evening out over the course of it.

Carefully, Edge wrapped it around his neck. It was long enough to wrap twice with the fringed ends dangling. 

Stretch waited with more patience this time as Edge examined his gift, but with more sincerity, and his expression was adorably hopeful.

“I love it,” Edge assured him.

“damn right you do,” Stretch bounded to his feet, catching hold of the ends of the scarf and pulling Edge in.

It was easy to lose himself in that kiss, but Edge made a mental note to secret those socks away before Stretch could unravel them.

They were a gift and Edge was not one to lie; he loved them and he was going to keep them.

-finis-


	4. Adult Supervision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge is not good at taking vacations. Stretch needs one of his own.

* * *

The Beanery wasn’t officially open yet, but Deb was at the new place in the mornings and told him to stop by if Stretch ever wanted a cup. 

Which, hell yes, although he restrained himself from going too often. No need to take advantage of a friendship. This morning, though, getting out of the house seemed like a little slice of heaven and Stretch didn’t send Edge a text where he was going until he was safely on the bus, the better to escape from any offers to drive him there. 

He loved Edge, he really did, but he really didn’t want to make excuses about why he didn’t want a ride, mostly because he couldn’t think of a way to say, ‘I need a moment to myself’ that wouldn’t be hurtful, especially when Edge was already so damned agitated. 

When he’d heard through the grapevine (from Red) that Edge was getting a forced vacation to chill out a little, Stretch hadn’t suspected that attempting relaxation was going to end up being even more stressful for his honey. And him, but that was a minor point to Stretch; in a few days he’d have plenty of time to recover from Hurricane Edge. 

Maybe going back to work was going to end up being the stress relief they’d been hoping for? Stranger things and all that. 

The bus was mostly empty, the morning rush already past, and Stretch didn’t linger too long at the shop. A little coffee, a chat with Deb, and an hour of listening to podcasts through his headphones. It was enough, and then it was time to get back.

He could have shortcutted from the bus stop in New New Home, sometimes he did, but eh, the weather was nice, and he was tweeting, plus a couple extra minutes away weren’t going to hurt anything. Maybe he could convince Edge to crawl into the hot tub with him, they hadn’t used it together in a while, hmm, that was worth a try.

His focus was on his phone, his coffee, and his afternoon, in that order. Which was why he completely missed the tripwire, although Stretch was pretty sure he wouldn’t have seen it even if he’d been full focus on his feet, since it was a fucking _tripwire_ on his _sidewalk_. 

His yelp as the net fell on him was rather embarrassingly close to a shriek. Stretch bobbled his phone and his drink, managing to drop neither and it was only the sudden roar of gleeful childish shouts nearby that kept him from shortcutting his ass to the next neighborhood. He stared out through the holes of the net, what the everloving fuck—

From around the corner came his husband along with the neighborhood menagerie, all of them dressed from ankle to eyebrows in black, complete with greasepaint smeared under whatever passed for their eyes. They looked like the crew of an amateur heist movie. 

“edge?” Stretch said, disbelievingly. Because there was no way, there was no fucking way that his husband had set a fucking _trap_ for him in their front yard. Except for how that totally seemed to be what had happened and why not? It wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened this week.

Edge strode up to him with all the kiddos at his booted heels. He crouched down by Stretch’s feet and pointed, “Do you see? The tension in the wire is important, too loose and the trap won’t trip. Too tight and your quarry will fall and make the net less effective.”

The kids all nodded solemnly, watching with great interest and not one of the damn brats looked like the were about to pull the net off him, Edge included. 

“can i ask why you guys thought it was a good idea to have me play victim, here?” Stretch asked loudly. All eyes were suddenly on him, which he kind of thought should have happened sooner since he was standing here inside a damn net. 

Edge lifted his chin and glared at him with ferocity that told Stretch he was not yet forgiven for ditching out the way he had. Frankly, that look did a lot of things for Stretch. Bad, terrible things that he should not be thinking in public, no, sir. 

“Trap building is a part of our heritage,” Edge told him firmly, “that is being shamefully neglected since we came to the surface. I am teaching the children of its importance and incorporating a few beginner’s lessons.”

Yeah, okay, that didn’t sound terrible at all. And Edge worried about flocks of angry parents when he played with the kids? 

“with me as the prey?” Stretch said flatly. 

That got him a faint smirk, Edge’s eye lights flicking over him. “Better than the bait.”

Stretch wasn’t so sure about that, but there wasn’t much he could say on the subject in front of a half dozen pairs of extremely interested eyes. Instead, he cleared his throat, loudly, “yeah, okay, you caught me, now turn me loose, mighty hunters.”

It took a minute to untangle him, but Edge did it with such care that Stretch didn’t spill a drop of his coffee. He also managed what Stretch felt was an awful lot of unnecessary touching and he almost wished Edge had taken a little longer at it. 

All too soon he was free, and the kids were folding up the net with enough ease to tell Stretch that they’d already practiced it multiple times. 

“trying to steal my minions?” Stretch accused lightly. 

“Consider it a loan,” Edge smirked briefly, then more seriously, “Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you at all, did I? We almost went for Papyrus, but he’s already drawing up plans for the second phase and he would have been on the lookout—”

“i’m fine, babe,” Stretch said, gently. Honestly, it was a fucking treat to get caught up (literally) into one of Edge’s rare games. He caught Edge’s hand and pulled it up, kissing his knuckles the way Edge liked to do to him and from the way Edge shivered, he needed to do that a lot more often, hell to the yes. 

“Love—” Edge started, a touch hoarsely, then he shook his head, taking a deep breath and turning back to the kiddos. “All right then, guards. It’s time for us to meet Papyrus and Blue, they have another setup for us.”

A round of cheers rose and Edge turned back to Stretch, “I should be home in a couple hours.”

“i’ll be waiting,” Stretch let his voice drop to a velvety pitch, and the shiver that went up Edge’s spine from it was almost visible. 

A curt nod from Edge and then he and his miniature guard were on their way to create more traps in the wilds of New New Home, or more accurately, Sans and Papyrus’s backyard.

Stretch watched them go, then shook his head and continued on his way into his house. Though he was paying a hell of a lot more attention to where he was walking now, angel’s wept. 

“i need to get him back to work,” Stretch muttered. Although he guessed Edge had at least found something to do. It might not be a bad idea to bundle up a little warmer then head over to keep an eye on all the shenanigans. 

Maybe just this once, he should be the adult supervision. 

-finis-


	5. Sharing Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge still isn’t good at vacations. Stretch is doing his best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a long week. Have some sweet fluffy.

* * *

Edge usually woke before his alarm even had a chance to ring. Today it wasn’t even set since he was banned from doing his damned job for a week, or ‘on vacation’ as Stretch put it.

_(He didn’t want a vacation and he didn’t need one, for any reason)_

Regardless of his alarm, Edge was awake, half his thoughts already on his morning routine. Before he could slide free of the blankets, though, a pair of long, bony arms accompanied by an equally so pair of legs wound around him like a cage. A low, grumbling sound of discontent followed them, buried in between his scapulas.

Edge allowed it for a moment and then when Stretch didn’t release him, he asked, dryly, “Are you planning on letting go?”

“no.” Muffled as it was into Edge’s pajama shirt, those arms tightening around him reenforced the meaning.

“No?” Amused, he settled a gentle hand over Stretch’s trying to coax them loose. To no avail; it only caused him to grip his own together even more stubbornly.

“no. you should stay here and be warm for me.” 

Edge huffed softly. Yes, because this wasn’t an obvious and transparent attempt to help him ‘relax’. “Is that all I am, a source of heat for you?”

“you do make me plenty hot.” 

Despite the words, the leer Edge could hear was perfunctory at best. Nothing about Stretch’s embrace was teasing or seductive. Not entirely a surprise, considering how…active….they’d been the last few days. It was one of Stretch’s better relaxation strategies. 

“I need to go running.”

Another sigh and somehow Stretch dredged up even more discontent to mix with it. “is the road going to leave without you?”

His will to stand up against Stretch’s wheedling was fading quickly and the bed _was_ warm….

“I suppose it can wait a bit,” Edge allowed, although he made sure to say it with all the disgruntlement he could muster. Best not to let Stretch grow accustomed to winning this fight.

Possibly a losing battle; he could have sworn he heard Stretch purr in triumph. He found he didn’t really mind; a grouchy, sleepy Stretch clinging to him was truly a gift to be savored whenever possible.

He felt it when Stretch drifted back to sleep a few minutes later, his grip loosening, then his hands falling lax as his breathing evened out. Escape would have been easy and it was likely Stretch would do no more than grumble in his sleep if Edge left him.

Instead, he loaded up the book he’d been reading on his phone and settled in, letting Stretch remain curled up against him. Sharing his warmth as his love slept on.

-finis-


	6. Weighing Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch knew where he was when he woke up, most of the time. It was a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am behind in replying to comments, I know, and I am sooo tired today, but it's been a few days since I had something for these boys. So have a drabble. ^_^

* * *

When Stretch first woke up, he wasn’t exactly sure where he was. That wasn’t really as alarming to him as it might be to someone else. Stretch was pretty used to falling asleep in weird places, it was a thing, it happened. What could he say, he was a tired kind of guy, and anyone who hasn’t fallen asleep on top of a refrigerator at some point probably wasn’t living their fullest life, right?

Anyway, waking up someplace weird, yeah, been there, bought the collectible color-changing coffee mug. That was all to the good.

Waking up feeling like he was being squished, now, that was a new thing.

He wasn’t exactly a detective, but a guy didn’t need to see more than one episode of Law and Order to figure out that when you recognized the fabric that was two inches from your nasal aperture, it meant you were face-down on your own sofa. 

That was a little good news, at least; waking up places that were not in his own house was usually when the various problems began.

But what the hell was _on_ him…?

It took more effort than he liked to use in one go, but Stretch managed to push up enough to make the weight on his back shift, which it did, somewhat loudly and grumpily, and also happily familiar. Well. Sort of happily.

Okay, so at some point while they were between Netflix episodes, Edge had ended up sprawled on top of him and fallen asleep there. The idea of it was fucking precious and what Stretch wouldn’t have given for a picture of him curled up on him. If Stretch were allowed to be a betting man (and he wasn’t, damn but he still missed that Golden Girls t-shirt, and Red was an asshole to show off wearing it all the time) he’d lay heavy odds on the dampness at his shoulder being from Edge drooling on him. 

Maybe he could get Red to give him a screen capture from whatever spy thingie he probably had squirreled away somewhere in their living room.

But yeah, the _idea_ was precious. The execution on the other hand…it wasn’t bad, exactly, but Edge was kind of heavy and bony and uncomfortable. Something was poking him in the middle of his spine, and it felt a hell of a lot more like a belt buckle than Edge being happy to see him. 

It was also kind of ungodly hot, like, ‘pits of the damned’ hot. All that heat that Stretch normally loved to steal from own lovable personal space heater was making its way down, and he was starting to sweat through his shirt. Being squished _and_ squishy was not his favorite way to sleep. Add in the fact that breathing was becoming less of an automatic response as it was an ongoing challenge, and this was a problem. 

All righty, then. Time to weigh (heh) his options. 

He couldn’t shortcut out because he’d take Edge along for the ride and waking up puking was probably not the way to help him with the stress thing. Edge was pretty understanding about most stuff, probably more than he should be, but Stretch had to think that a move like that would earn him cold cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a few days.

Wiggling a little might get him loose but it would probably wake Edge up and that was the kinda the opposite of what Stretch wanted. He was sleeping for fucking once and besides, from the way his husband was clinging to him like a bony koala, it wouldn’t be enough to escape, anyway. 

If he wiggled a lot, Edge would definitely wake up and probably with ideas, filthy, wonderful ideas that Stretch was banned from putting on any internet forum even if it was anonymous and quit asking. 

Tempting as that idea was, Stretch was honest to holy shit worn out. Edge seemed to be taking this vacation sex as a personal challenge and Stretch had no doubt Edge had broken a number of land records on his ass already, and maybe even a few seaworthy ones if the hot tub counted. If he tried to summon his magic again today, Stretch was afraid it might revolt and run away, and he’d be stuck getting postcards from his dick once a month telling him how nice the weather was in the islands.

So many options and all of them without a Goldilocks ending. Choices, choices…

But like so many things in his life, this one went towards proving an ongoing theory of his; if he simply put off doing anything for long enough, the problem solved itself. 

Before he could decide which yellow brick road to skip down, Edge made a soft sound and then sighed, his breath ticklish against Stretch’s cervical vertebrae. He shifted his weight more towards the sofa and less right on top of Stretch, which was enough to let him draw in a full breath of sweet, sweet air.

“Love?” Edge said, drowsily. One of his hands wandered beneath Stretch’s shirt, petting at his rib cage long enough to make him shiver before it sort of wilted into nothing more than a gentle touch. 

“go back to sleep,” Stretch whispered and wonder of ever-loving wonders, it was a day of miracles, because he actually did. Stretch should’ve ignored the gambling ban and bought a lottery ticket.

Oh, well. At least Edge was relaxing.

Stretch wiggled just a little, only enough to get a last grumbly, wordless complaint from papa bear back there before he settled in to go back to sleep. Tomorrow his spine was going read him the riot act and probably make plans to take off to wherever his dick was running off to, but Stretch didn’t care. 

He knew exactly where he was and there was no other place he’d rather be. 

-finis


	7. Get Your Motor Runnin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring is coming, warm weather, and sunshine. Edge and his motorcycle can't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheapbourbon has done some gorgeous artwork with Edge and his motorcycle. It is very inspiring. ^_^

* * *

The garage was still cold; the temperature outside hadn’t risen enough yet to put much of a dent in the chill, but Edge had a space heater set up and after a few hours, it was tolerable. 

He’d parked his car in the driveway to give himself more room and now he pulled the cover off his motorcycle, folding it up and setting it aside. He couldn’t help running a reverent hand over it, stroking the seat, the handlebars; he’d missed this. 

After a long winter in storage, his bike would need a little work before it was road ready and since he wasn’t allowed to do his real job, he may as well prepare it for the upcoming shift in weather. 

It was nothing more than basic maintenance. The bike had been painstakingly winterized before he stored it and that only left reversing the process. 

First, he changed the oil, careful not to spill any, the stains would never fade from the concrete floor. Next, he filled the tires until the pressure was at the manufacturer’s recommendation. He checked all the fluids and linkages, the brake pads. Tire wear. Now he was down to a thorough waxing and polishing the chrome. By the time he took it back out on the road, it would be a gleaming masterpiece of engineering. 

With long strokes, he rubbed in the wax, then took up his polishing cloth to wipe it away, revealing glossy red paint beneath. He tended to every part of the body before changing out wax for metal polish and attending to the chrome. Beneath his hands, every piece received its due attention, until it glowed beneath the overhead lights. 

It was an extravagance, this bike. His car had been his first major purchase when he'd had the funds for it. Flashy, perhaps, but still a necessity in this world where walking to every post was simply not feasible. His motorcycle was pure self-indulgence and he loved it, every lustrous bit. It was freedom in a way that his car simply wasn’t, the ability to hop on and feel the power of it between his legs, cruising down the roads and highways beneath the sunlight. 

Red stole his car with exasperating frequency but never his bike and it was not because he wasn't able to drive it.

He folded the cloth in half, wiping down the handlebars and seat. Almost finished. His eye lights reflected in the mirror shine. 

Absently, he thought of how nice it would be to take Stretch out for a ride. It was something they'd never done. 

In the past, he’d been resistant to the idea; a motorcycle was not the safest means of travel but if Stretch was willing to allow him to risk himself on it, he’d be a hypocrite not to offer the same option. High HP wasn’t much different to low when it came to an accident that was bad enough to break bone.

Of course, Stretch would need his own helmet and a jacket, and definitely something better than the track pants he favored, but Edge was a safe driver, doubly so when his husband was with him.

Setting aside his rag, Edge stood and straddled the bike, half-lost in his imaginings. 

Out riding the roads in the new spring sunshine, away from the traffic and the crowd of other cars. They could even go out of Ebott, there were plenty of parks and wildlife preserves outside of the city. Maybe hit the highway and travel a little further; anyone would be hard pressed to tell they were Monsters through a helmet. Bring along a picnic lunch and go for a real ride.

He thought Stretch might enjoy that, and simply imagining his delight was inspiration enough to start planning. 

The door to the garage opened and before he could so much as turn that way, Stretch sat down behind him and wrapped his arms around him, effectively trapping him.

"gotcha!” Stretch said happily, nuzzling at Edge's cervical vertebrae. He wasn't ticklish but that fact never stopped Stretch from trying. His voice was muffled into Edge's collar as he declared, “mine!”

“Yours?" Edge would never admit aloud to subtly tilting his head, giving Stretch better access. "Only if I let you.”

“well, yeah," Stretch sounded equal parts amused and puzzled. "why would i want you any other way?” 

Edge let his skull drop back to rest on Stretch’s shoulder and breathed in the sweetness of his magic. He would never get tired of the feeling of his lover, his husband, against him. 

“I love you,” he said, simply. Stretch’s arms tightened around him and he made a soft, happy sound.

“good thing i love you too or this would be awkward.”

He settled his hands over Stretch's, twining their fingers together and imagined these arms around him with miles of road ahead of them. 

Soon, he told himself, spring was coming. 

Soon. 

-finis-


	8. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A package in the mail shouldn't be something to be wary of, but then, most people don't have to live with Stretch.

* * *

Stretch was sitting on the sofa when Edge came downstairs carrying his basket of cleaning supplies. He wasn’t sure what Stretch was attempting to knit this time, but from the color scheme, he could guess it was for his brother. Whatever it was, it looked like it had three legs and Edge had decided that for the sake of his own peace of mind, he wasn’t going to ask. 

Some questions were best left unanswered.

There was a knock at the door and Edge waved Stretch back when he began to stand. “I have it, you’ll end up trailing yarn across the living room.”

“asshole,” Stretch called to him, cheerfully, but he didn’t deny it.

Behind the door was their mailman with a package in hand. He blinked moistly and Edge gave him a polite nod, signing his name when the other Monster held out a clipboard and then exchanged it for the package. The mailman burbled cheerily and slithered back to their little truck while Edge hefted the package. Whatever it was, it was very light and covered with a colorful variety of stamps. ‘Papyrus’ was written on a mailing label with ‘Stretch’ next to it in parenthesis.

“oh, gimmie, gimmie!” Came excitedly from behind him. Edge turned around to see Stretch standing behind him, bouncing on his toes, his hands reaching with grabby eagerness. 

Edge surrendered the box without protest, following Stretch as he dashed to sit on the sofa, tearing at the packaging. 

“What did you order?” he asked, curiously. Not that Edge was too worried; if it was dangerous or illicit, he would have had it delivered to Red’s house.

“i didn’t” Stretch grunted, struggling with the well-taped box. “one of my twitter followers is from japan and they asked if they could send me something.”

“Really?” Edge was reluctantly intrigued. He was hardly the anime fan that Alphys was and he couldn’t read Japanese like Stretch likely could, but some manga or a new anime might be enjoyable. Then again, the box was likely too light for anything like that.

He let Stretch struggle with it a moment longer, then silently took the box away. Ignoring his indignant protest, Edge pulled out a pocket knife and carefully cut through the clinging tape while Stretch squirmed impatiently, then handed it back to him.

“i hope they sent snacky-doos, i love japanese snacks,” Stretch said gleefully, ignoring the way Edge bemusedly mouthed, ‘snacky-doos?’

But when he lifted the lid of the box, Stretch only blinked down at the contents. There was a froth of tissue paper and a glimpse of deep crimson, but what he pulled out was a letter. 

Unfolding it, he read, “this is a yukata, a traditional japanese garment that is often worn in the summertime. you said on your twitter that you’re looking forward to the warmer weather and i thought you would appreciate this.” He looked back in the box, “huh, okay.”

Tossing the letter on the coffee table, Stretch reached inside the box and lifted out a swath of colorful fabric from it. 

“wow, that’s awesome,” he breathed. He set it back down and quickly stripped off his hoodie, kicking off his shoes to skim off his pants.

Edge only watched the impromptu strip tease with polite interest. “So, they sent you a kimono?”

“nah, a real kimono is kind of expensive.” Stretch pulled on the garment, leaving it hanging open as he dug through the box again. This time he came back triumphantly with a sash of some sort. “this is a yukata, they’re more casual.”

There was an instructional card included with the letter and Stretch studied it a moment, then set it aside. Edge watched as Stretch carefully wrapped the robe around him and then the sash, neatly tying it at his hip. He turned to Edge, posing theatrically. “how do i look?”

Edge swallowed hard, drinking in the sight in front of him. He didn’t have any issue with how Stretch chose to dress, but he could certainly appreciate an occasion when he strayed outside the usual.

The yukata was deep red and liberally decorated with delicately entwined white flowers. Peonies, perhaps? He wasn’t sure but the effect against Stretch’s bones was a lovely one. The sash was a darker crimson and while it didn’t quite balance with the color of Stretch’s magic, it matched his own and that rich shade looked lovely against the delicate ivory shade of his bones. So very lovely. 

There were times when he looked at Stretch that his rib cage felt too small for his soul. It felt as if his soul would come bursting forth, and as sorrowfully red and scarred as it was, it would be overfilled with his love. The thought was nothing less than pure sentiment and once, he would have scoffed at such emotion and fanciful thought. 

Now he wanted to saturate himself in it until it overflowed. Stars, he loved him. 

“You look beautiful,” Edge told him, and was not ashamed of the faint hoarseness to his words. 

“you always think i look beautiful,” Stretch teased. But his smile was happy, a soft flush rising in his cheekbones, and he smoothed a reverent hand down the fabric.

“That’s because you always do.”

Soon enough, Stretch would be pestering him to take a picture for his twitter and Edge would take it and share him with that little part of the world who followed the ramblings and thoughts his husband offered them.

Edge reached out to cup Stretch’s face in his hands, tipping his skull down so that he could take a gentle kiss. Not that it was anything Stretch wasn’t offering, and eagerly at that. 

Before he had to share his love with everyone, Edge wanted to steal a few moments for himself. 

-finis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My research tells me that traditionally, an adult male would wear a darker, more sedate yukata but I felt that anyone who followed Stretch's twitter so diligently would know he'd like something brighter. I love him in Edge's colors almost as much as Edge does. ^_^
> 
> I hope I didn't tread on any cultural toes with this, please do tell me if that is the case.
> 
> hj_skb made a lovely piece of art showing what Stretch might look like in his yukata, please check it out!
> 
>  
> 
> [See it here!](https://twitter.com/hj_skb/status/1107323750154948608)
> 
> theradicalace also did an adorable picture of Stretch in his yukata!  
> [Check out the precious boy here!](https://theradicalace.tumblr.com/post/184382354182/drew-some-fanart-for-this-lovely-fic-by)


	9. Something Good (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Edge, sex had never been about his own gratification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW drabble! Sexytimes ahead

* * *

Despite his endless curiosity over most things, Stretch had never asked Edge about his past sexual history. Not that Edge would have minded telling him, there were few things he wouldn’t discuss with Stretch, but in all honesty, the conversation would have been a short one. He’d lived most of his adult life without the urge for sexual gratification past what he could provide for himself. Until Stretch.

It simply hadn’t interested him before and if the truth were to be told, Edge suspected if Stretch hadn’t managed to worm his way into his affections, it still wouldn’t. It wasn’t sex he wanted so much as sex _with Stretch_ , two very distinct interactions, and sex with Stretch was something to delight in, something to crave. 

His husband’s pleasure was always the first goal, his own an exquisite afterthought. His _pleasure_ , not necessarily his orgasm, and if that took the form of Stretch eagerly sucking him, or watching Edge with darkened, keen eye lights as he slowly jerked him off, Edge was more than willing to allow what gave Stretch the most enjoyment. 

Like now, to have Stretch on his back while Edge was buried deep in the slick welcome of his cunt. Stretch moaned and clutched at him, utterly bare, his bones shining with the dual glow of his arousal and sweat, and both his legs were wrapped around Edge’s mostly clothed pelvis, ah, that was a physical and visual delight. 

The bed squeaked as it rocked, Edge bracing his booted heels against the floor as he drove into that wet, welcoming heat again and again, drinking in the sight of Stretch’s hectically flushed cheek bones, his unintelligible whimpers and cries that occasionally garbled into words of pleading. 

He liked this position; dragging Stretch sideways on the bed with his pelvis at the edge of the mattress allowed him to keep most of his weight on his feet where it wouldn’t eventually become too much for his lover to bear, and it gave him an excellent view from Stretch’s blushing face all the way down to where they were joined, watching the deep crimson of his cock sinking into the rich orange of Stretch’s cunt. An embarrassment of riches and Edge only wished he could take in all of it at once. 

Lovely as it was, an unexpected impulse struck him, something else he desperately wished to see, and caught up in the heady tangle of his own pleasure, it didn’t occur to him to resist.

“Let me see your soul,” Edge said urgently. 

There wasn’t so much as a moment of hesitation. Stretch’s soul coalescing in between them with a flare, the same delicate silver that Edge remembered only now it was glistening brilliantly like mercury, heavy with his husband’s desire.

Braced himself on one hand, Edge cupped the other around it, sweeping a reckless thumb over the slick surface. 

Beneath him, Stretch arched up and _wailed_ , clawing at his back with blunt fingertips. His cunt tightened gloriously around him with a ripple of constriction that felt _incredible_ and Edge had to pause, quivering, trying to hold back. 

And dragged his gloved thumb along Stretch’s soul again. 

Stretch’s mouth opened in a silent scream, his sockets squeezing shut as he convulsed in a rictus of orgasm. It was impossible not to follow him, trying to keep his sockets open to watch Stretch coming even as he was drowning in his own pleasure, where it teetered on the border of too much and never, ever enough. 

Panting, Edge managed to open his sockets again in time to watch regretfully as Stretch’s soul faded from his hand, leaving behind a faint stain of silvery residue on his bones. It was so incredibly beautiful, a rare gift to see or touch and Edge treasured every memory of it, secreting it in the back of his mind. 

But a glance up found Stretch sprawled weakly on the bed with tears trickling down his cheekbones.

“Did I hurt you?” Edge asked, alarmed, and tried to pull away. Only to find he was trapped in a cage of Stretch’s arms and legs, stubbornly refusing to let him go. He subsided, letting his weight fall back on his elbows while he waited for Stretch to catch his breath. 

“no,” Stretch said finally, with a watery laugh. “no, that didn’t hurt. that was…fuck…that was something.”

“But something good?” Edge persisted. From Stretch’s reaction, it had been overwhelming if nothing else. Edge had no intention of adding soul play to their regular sexual itinerary and not at all if the answer was no, but perhaps on rare occasions?

From the soft way Stretch was looking at him, he guessed the answer before it was spoken. “yeah, babe, that was something good.”

Relieved, Edge ducked his head and nuzzled a tender kiss against his husband’s mouth, petting his bones gently wherever he could reach while their sweat dried and the last tremors eased. 

Before, he’d never really considered why sex was sometimes called making love. It was Stretch who taught him the difference and perhaps that explained his earlier disinterest in sex. 

Sex held little appeal but making love to Stretch was a pleasure worth sharing. 

-finis-


	10. Having Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never good news when Red wants to have a conversation, no, but Stretch knows funny when he sees it.

* * *

Stretch was honestly starting to wonder if spring was ever coming. He understood the science behind the weather reports, but even with all the technology Humans had, they could be irritatingly vague.

At least in the Underground, you had a pretty good idea of what the hell you were getting into. Snowdin equals snow, Waterfall equals wet, Hotland equals horrible terrain where no one should exist. It was nice and straightforward. 

Then again, being Aboveground was worth it for the sun. 

It was shining down today despite how chilly it was and Stretch might tuck his hands into his hoodie, but he always let the sunshine fall on his skull. 

The chickens didn’t give a damn what the weather was. All they wanted was to be out of the coop, pecking around the yard and clucking eagerly for scritches that Stretch was happy to give. 

They tended to cluster around his feet. Nugget always had to check and make sure his shoelaces hadn’t become edible since last they’d met and when she discovered yet another day of disappointment, she joined the others hopefully scrounging for any bugs that might have come back early from winter vacation.

Watching them always filled him with a kind of contentment. He leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, then called out, “quit watching me like a creeper and come sit down.”

With a muted pop, Red appeared in the chair next to him. “eh, i wasn’t being a…hey!”

He stood up abruptly and made a decent attempt to glare at the chair and Stretch at the same time.

“don’t look at me, if you’d spied on me sooner, you would’ve seen me wipe my chair off.” He tossed the damp cloth over to Red. “what’s up?”

Red gave the chair a cursory swipe then sat back down. His scowl vanished into a toothy grin. “can’t i check in on my bro-in-law without an ulterior motive?”

“you never have before, why start now?”

“fair enough.” Red pulled one of his nasty ass cigars out of his jacket and Stretch handed over his lighter with a sigh. The chickens investigated Red's shoelaces hopefully while he lit it, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “you’re kind of the monster unofficial social media mogul, yeah?”

“dunno if i’d call it that,” Stretch said warily. It was never a good thing when Red started asking questions like that. 

Red only nodded. “you ever google yourself?”

“doesn’t everyone? nothing wrong with a little ego surfing, i—" Stretch stopped and gave him a narrow look.

Red gave off an appearance of bland disinterest, which completely meant he was hiding something. His expressions were always twice removed and turned sideways from what he was actually feeling, so Red was either worried or pissed, hell, maybe uncomfortable, what the fuck—

Oh.

“you wanna know if i’ve seen the porn!” Stretch said gleefully. “holy shit, yes! humans have some vivid imaginations, don’t they?”

“vivid,” Red muttered sourly. Normally Red wore a grin of some sort, cocky and all-knowing. To see him looking like he’d swallowed one of his own stanky-ass boots sideways was a rare gift.

“there’s some pretty good likenesses, too, some of those artists have talent.” Stretch propped his chin on a hand. Unlike Red, he was more than happy to show his true emotions, particularly when they took the form of a maniacal grin. Besides, if you got a chance to stick someone, may as well twist the knife. “good thing they like to pair me up with my husband, am i right? although a quick google search could probably find some variety…”

Wow, so that was what incoming murder looked like in Underfell. Good thing Edge would be more than a little annoyed if Red killed him. 

“what did you stumble across?” Stretch needled gleefully. “little painting of your bro and i playing pokey pokey? hiding the sausage? riding the magic pogo stick?”

As delightful as the spreading horror over Red’s face was, Stretch figured that was a good place to stop. Probably wouldn’t do to have Red start calling one of those hitmen he had on speed dial. 

Red drew hard on his cigar, burning half of it in one inhale, and on the exhale, he grumbled out. “don’t matter.”

“oh, come on, you can’t tell me that and then don’t show me!” Stretch whined. Better to try that first; bribery should always be the third step. “really? that’s just cruel, give me something for the spank bank.”

He really didn’t think Red would, so when he silently handed over his phone, grimacing in disgust, Stretch snatched it gleefully. But he made sure not to swipe, because therein probably lay nightmares that could not be unseen. 

Stretch blinked. “oh. uh, wow.”

He turned the phone to the side. Then upside down. Then right side up again. “the scientist in me would like to point out that this isn’t physically possible, especially when you take gravity into account. on the other hand, points for creativity and it’s a hell of a likeness. like looking in a mirror if i ever wanted to get a side job as a pornographic contortionist.”

Red snorted and shook his head. “the likeness of my bro isn’t very good.”

“yeah, but i never post pics of his face. they can only work with what they’ve got. not that it matters, can’t see his face from around my—“

“i can see what it is, thanks,” Red interrupted loudly. He reached down towards the chickens and Stretch didn’t realize he’d tensed until Red only scratched Dumpling gently. His lady cooed and leaned into the scritches, disloyal brat. 

“not like you can miss it. they sure give me some credit, don’t they.” He handed the phone back. “send me the link to that?”

“yeah, yeah. fucking pervert. take it so i can go bleach my phone.” He waited while Stretch happily saved it. “gonna show him?”

“oh, yeah,” Stretch drawled, rolling his eye lights. “i’m going to bring up the pornscapades of our artistic doppelgängers right about never.” He ticked off on each finger, scattering ash from his cigarette, “he’ll either ignore it, silently hate it, or burn the internet down to get rid of it and i’m not about to let him start a technological apocalypse just because some dirty-minded humans have ideas about how skeletons get busy.”

“get busy? you always seemed more like the lay-there-and-take-it type, but what do i know.”

“probably too much as it is,” Stretch raised a brow bone curiously. “you gonna bring it up to him?”

“not before i get to watch the new season of game of thrones.”

The sliding glass door opened, and Edge stuck his head out. The chickens made a beeline to him instantly, even as he called out, “If you two are finished discussing your nefarious deeds, lunch is ready.” 

He shut the sliding door before the chickens could run inside. 

Red and Stretch shared a silent look, and when Red extended a challenging pinkie, Stretch hooked it with his own and shook.

No telling Edge about the porn. Deal.

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look at the art that hj_skb made for this! It's wonderful and hilarious, look and you'll understand, LOL!
> 
> [Check it out here!](https://twitter.com/hj_skb/status/1108039458409058304)


	11. Trash Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely not based on something that I did today, nope, any similarities to real people or events is purely coincidental.

* * *

The spring festival wasn’t quite the level of cheesy carnival that Stretch favored, but it was still fairly enjoyable for him. Edge went more to indulge him than anything, although the various booths and demonstrations of gardening equipment did occasionally catch his attention.

Most people used it as an excuse to get out into the returning sunshine, to coo over the various animals in the little petting zoo, and to overindulge in a variety of greasy foods from the vendors. Most people were having an excellent time. 

But then, most people didn’t come back from using the ATM to find their spouses digging through a trash bin.

For a moment, Edge wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing and so he waited in case it was perhaps a hallucination brought on by the greasy fumes surrounding them.

But it didn’t fade and it seemed to be no mirage. There was Stretch, halfway into a trash can digging furiously like some sort of oversized, maniacal raccoon.

He chose and discarded a number of things to say, finally going with. “Stretch. What are you doing?”

A pet name at this moment would make plausible deniability more difficult and for the first time in recent memory, he was keeping the phrase, “No, officer, I don’t know him,” close at hand.

“looking for my phone!”

Well. That cleared up exactly nothing. “If you didn’t want to carry your phone, I would have taken it.”

“i didn’t mean to throw it away! i was trying to throw away my corn dog stick only my hands got confused and i accidentally threw away my phone and not the stick and i am trying to find it…aha!”

He wriggled out of the basket, holding up his phone in triumph. Along with a collection of detritus that had attached itself to his sweatshirt during his valiant quest.

“Wonderful. Take off your sweatshirt.”

Stretch looked at him as if he’d suggested giving the various Humans sitting around them with strollers and snacks a quick lap dance. He clutched at the neck of his sweatshirt like heroine of a Victorian novel, if said heroine had just filthied themselves digging through garbage. “no!”

“You’re wearing a T-shirt beneath it and it’s filthy. Take it off.”

“but all my stuff is in it!”

This was how murders began, Edge was sure of it. It started with something simple and escalated to the point of death. He would never, ever hurt Stretch, never. That didn’t preclude the occasional contemplation of murder. 

“I will buy you a new sweatshirt,” he gritted out. “From the gift shop. Take. It. Off.”

For one brief moment of teetering insanity, he thought Stretch would argue more. Then he slowly started pulling things from his pockets. “and you’ll buy me one right now?”

“After you wash in the bathroom, yes.” He grimaced as he took cigarettes and lighter, a handful of change that included what seemed to be a galleon from Harry Potter, a toy shaped like a chicken whose eyes bulged out when it was squeezed, what appeared to be a ziplock bag filled with dog treats, the stick from a corn dog—

“wait, that was what i was trying to throw away.” He plucked it from Edge’s cringing fingers and threw it in the trash. “okay, that’s everything.”

Edge waited patiently while he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, depositing his menagerie of items into his own pockets. Suggesting throwing it in the trash alongside the corn dog stick would only result in another argument and Edge settled for instructing him to turn it inside out to carry it until they could get a plastic bag.

Almost immediately Stretch was shivering, turning wide and miserable eye lights to Edge. Or more likely, to his jacket.

“Wash your hands first,” he commanded. “The restrooms are right here.”

“yeah, yeah.” Stretch disappeared inside and Edge waited, idly hoping that the gift shop would have a sweatshirt that was long enough, when he heard a loud curse.

He was inside before he even considered what he was doing, magic already sparking…to find Stretch searching through the trash can.

“don’t even ask!” Stretch snapped and Edge turned away because if he started laughing he wasn’t going to be able to stop, and the pendulum of murderous tendencies today was going to swing back his direction.

“Be sure to wash your hands,” he managed, and stepped back outside in the midst of a storm of creative swearing. 

The change in his pocket jangled and Edge found himself absently fingering the galleon, wondering where on earth Stretch found it and what goods and/or services he had exchanged for it.

He hoped it was nothing to do with trash cans.

-finis-


	12. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People who lived together long enough developed a sort of silent language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spicyhoney boys are my jam, but I’ve always found Edge and Red’s relationship interesting. Not what any of the others would consider normal, (as if they’d know) and they would very likely be willing to die for the other. Edge would be willing to kill for Red and Red...well, Red might kill for a Snickers, let’s not get too soppy here.

* * *

Someone was in their backyard.

Edge didn’t bother with the kitchen light in the morning when he came down to brew his first pot of coffee. He didn’t need it to see and the instinct to survey his home first thing after waking would have been difficult to shake even if he were trying. He wasn’t.

But this was the first time that a glance out the back window revealed a shadowed figure in the yard.

Pure, hot instinct shouted for him to run back upstairs where Stretch was curled up sleeping, to protect what was his from this unknown threat.

Cooler practicality overshadowed it. Better to investigate first, the odds were much higher that it was a local child sneaking around than an invasion of any kind.

Higher but not impossibly so.

Edge slipped off his bright running jacket and grabbed a black hoodie from the front closet and slid it on, pulling the hood over the glaring white of his skull. Snuffing his eye lights was uncomfortable and limited his vision, but stealth was necessary for the moment.

Instead of going through the sliding back door, he went out the front and walked around, lightly hopping over the gate. Walking silently, he made his way to the back of the yard and stopped.

That…was unexpected.

His brother was sitting beneath the large tree in the back corner. Nugget was settled in his lap, making the rumbly little chirr she always did when someone was petting her and the other two chickens were settled around him, trying to decide if they were going to clamor for attention. He saw the very moment Red noticed him, the way his fingers briefly flexed, but he didn’t move, couldn’t, not unless he was willing to teleport with a small flock of chickens.

Edge wasn’t sure he could claim he understood his brother, but he knew him. People who spent as much time living together as they had developed a silent language, a communication that didn’t require words.

So Edge didn’t need to say, _what the fuck are you doing?_

And he didn’t need to hear his brother reply, _what does it fucking look like, dumbass._

Dumpling and Noodle noticed him and abandoned Red, already underfoot as he walked over to his brother and crouched down over the damp grass. Both of them crowded around him, clucking in soft contentment as he obediently gave them the demanded scritchings. Nugget only briefly opened her little eyes before closing them again, leaning into Red’s petting hands.

The horizon was started to color with the coming dawn when Red finally spoke.

“how many eggs do you get out of these scrawny little dinosaurs?” Red asked. He stroked beneath Nugget’s chin, carefully avoiding her little wattles. 

“Generally, one per day in the warmer months. Production slowed down over winter but since it’s been warming up, they’ve been laying more.” Stretch had been excited about the increased production, showing off the little colored eggs on his Instagram.

Red grunted approvingly, “useful.”

Ah, yes, useful. That was why his brother was here, to determine and rate the usefulness of Stretch’s pets.

“They are,” Edge agreed. A silent language, wordless communication. There was no need to point out that these sweet-natured little creatures were useful far past their ability to produce eggs. His brother, who was gently smoothing Nugget’s soft feathers while she crooned in contentment, already knew.

“They lay enough that I’ve been researching new egg recipes.” Edge took a deep breath. “You and Sans should come over for breakfast some time.”

Red’s petting hand stilled.

His fingers were just as sharp as Edge’s but Red never bothered with protective gloves. For a moment, the tension was as taut as a piano wire and Edge was never going to forgive himself for his miscalculation if he were forced to tell Stretch about the loss of his beloved pet.

Then that hand slowly resumed and Nugget’s crooning with it. 

“eh, maybe,” Red said disinterestedly. That it wasn’t followed with laughter and sarcasm was likely the most encouraging thing Edge was going to get.

A few more minutes passed in silence, then Red pushed Nugget away, gently but firmly despite her mournful protests. 

“later, boss.” _thank for letting me pet these little fuckers, but i got what i needed. probably be back again. probably._

“Goodbye, brother.” _Of course. Come back, sit with us again. Please take care of yourself. Please._

He waited for his brother to walk away, shortcutting between one step and the next, before shooing the chickens back into the coop. He didn’t feed them in spite of their loud protests; Stretch would be down in a few hours to check on them and would worry if they didn’t eat.

Instead, he walked around front, through the gate properly these time. He’d need to cut his run short today, if he was going to get to work on time.

-finis-


End file.
